


The Stroke

by SuperWoman0124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Grinding, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), POV First Person, Stripper Dean Winchester, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Wincest - Freeform, cute humor, lots of dirty grinding, non-related winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWoman0124/pseuds/SuperWoman0124
Summary: Sam is just saving up for college by any means necessary. If that means mucking the stalls at a strip joint, Sam has no problem with that. Until he embarrasses himself in front of the golden god that he’d love to screw in the broom closet. FML.





	The Stroke

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a little challenging for me. I’ve never written in first person and at first it was extremely difficult, but I got used to it after a little while. Let me know what you guys think! 
> 
>  
> 
> This is a part of my “Challenge Yourself” series that me and my BFF a_vause1980 have been hatching and scratching at since February of 2018. Come check us out for all your fanfiction needs. This one needed to have a title that was also a song title.

_“Jesus.”_

 

The club was dingy as I walked in for my usual shift, and shook the water out of my hair. It was raining cats and dogs, and I decided silently that walking to work wasn’t always the healthy and probably smart thing to do. 

 

I realized kind of quickly that even though I showed up 15 minutes early for each of my shifts, it was still very difficult to earn the respect of the people I worked with. I was the newest recruit, I understood that, but after a few weeks, no one but the boss had bothered to really talk to me. 

 

“Hey, Hector!” I swiped the bartender a wave, and he glowered back at me while he polished glasses. 

 

Okay, it was apparent that sober Hector wasn’t as nice as drunk Hector. Note to self. 

 

I went in the back to my station and opened the door to find a man leaning down in front of the bucket, ass in the air,  searching for something. 

 

“Hey, I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here.” 

 

I felt like an idiot saying it, but when the man stood up to face me, I suddenly felt even worse. 

 

He towered over me and I scanned his body quickly. His boots were scuffed and his posture was ramrod straight. His long sleeve shirt was tucked roughly into his tight fitting faded jeans. When I reached his face, I felt my jaw drop a little. 

 

 “I’m just looking for some rags, man. Spilled something all over me.” The muscled god spoke, and his voice was harsh and gravel rough, exactly like I thought it’d be. He looked a little familiar, and I was  pretty sure he wasn’t someone that had “one of those faces” because I’m pretty sure I would have remembered someone at striking as this. He looked me up and down, giving me an approving smirk. 

 

“Uhh-” Idiot! I screamed at myself. Say something, anything. “Cute..” NO! Anything but that. “Shelf?” 

 

The man before me smiled shyly, reaching his arm behind his head to scratch at it. I watched his shirt pull itself up and the long muscles stretch. 

 

“Which shelf is the cute shelf?” 

 

I couldn’t say anything. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I’m pretty sure I was doing a weird thing with my tongue. What the hell was I doing with my tongue? The only thing I could do is shove my arm out to point at the shelf with the rags. 

 

“Don’t know why this one is cuter than the rest, but I’ll take your word for it.” He reached over and grabbed a stack, blotting at the front of his shirt. “You’re Sam, right?” 

 

“Y-yeah.” I shoved my hands into my pockets once I noticed they were sweating.  I so hope he didn’t want to shake hands to introduce himself. “How’d you know?” 

 

“I work here?” The guy looked surprised that I hadn’t already known that, but the shy smile that perked up on either side of his face was enough to make me want to tackle this complete stranger in the broom closet and ride him til the sun came down. “I’m Dean.” 

 

Just like I thought he would, he stuck his hand out to shake. I, quickly and as sneakily as possible, rubbed the flop sweat from my palms and took his hand. I am literally in a nightmare. This gorgeous, fantastic, nice guy was talking to me and I was the wet rag thinking about boning him. I’d had so much more confidence in myself than this. 

 

“I’m Sam.” My voice shook. But he already knew that, cause he just told you he knew who you were, dummy. “But you already knew that.” 

 

“Alright, well.” Dean finished up rubbing the rag all over himself and turned to let me pass. I went to walk passed him, only to realize that I’d have to awkwardly turn. We squeezed into the small space and I could feel his taunt chest against mine as he slid out of the doorway. “See ya around, Sammy.” 

 

“It’s Sam.” I said to no one. Cause Dean was gone. Of course. 

 

Yup. I’m an idiot. No wonder no one respected me. 

 

\---- 

The private rooms were always gross. and this was my least favorite part of this job, always. People had no respect for other people. I walked into the third room and opened the door, finding it to be as disgusting as the other two. Great. I’m earning my paycheck today. 

 

Adonis Lounge wasn’t an absolutely horrible place to work for so far. A few weeks of mopping floors and scrubbing gross stuff off the bottom of the tables wasn’t all bad, and it was definitely better than being home with Dad. 

 

And it’s not like I couldn’t get a different job. I could, but I’m 25. Little to no job experience, saving up for college. Busing tables and slinging a mop was pretty much as good as it was gonna get. 3 blocks from the duplex. Oh, and the strippers were a bonus. 

 

“Next up is Dean! Can we get Dean on the stage, here?” 

 

The man on the loudspeaker boomed and I finally found a reason to scramble and finish my work. The greek god I just bumped into was a dancer? I HAD to see this. I took my mop and my bucket out of the floor and probably spilled more of it than I should have, but the music was already starting and I didn’t want to miss an instant. 

 

Dean walked out the stage and the lights did his body so much justice. His sleek hair was pushed back and his long-sleeve button down was untucked from the jeans I had seen him in earlier. His boots were replaced by bare feet and a few patrons began to approach the stage. He brought a chair up on the stage, throwing it behind him and gestured to the DJ to start the music. 

 

“The Stroke” by Billy Squire began to play and Dean began to clap his hands over his head in time with the music. He wandered the stage, making one complete round before swinging his calf around the pole. He did a half a spin and showed his denim-clad ass to the audience. I felt myself slip my head on top of the broom to watch, my half interested cock twitching below me. 

 

“Not now, bud. We gotta focus.” I tell myself. The patron closest to me glares in my general direction and I pretend to mop for half a second before my eyes find the stage again. 

 

He's pointing at me. Why? Why is he pointing at me? 

 

Dean is straddling the chair and giving me the come hither motion with his index and pointer fingers, and I am frozen to the floor. 

 

“Yeah, you.” Dean mouths over the music and I hear the cheers of the bouncer, Glenn and barkeep Hector, who must be a few drinks in by now. 

 

I drop my mop beside me as my body pulls itself to the stage, my legs now catching up. I hop onto one of the chairs by the stage and hoist myself up. As I'm climbing, Dean offers a hand and I take it without a second’s thought. He pulls me on stage and throws me onto the chair a little rougher than I'm used to. 

 

He faces me, bending over so that his ass is shaking for the audience, but leans into my ear. His lips are so close  to my earlobe that I can feel the hot puff of breath he exhales before he begins to speak. 

 

“Time to show you _my_ cute shelf.” He pulls his head back and winks. Those bright green eyes blown wide with adrenaline as he turns and shoves his ass on my lap. 

 

Dear lord. I think I'm in love. 

 

I watched Dean began to mouth the words over his shoulder as he ripped his button down off, sending buttons pouncing across the stage and into the audience. He starts to rock his hips forward in time with the beat, finding quickly that I wanted to reach out and press my thumbs into his hips, but I know I'm not supposed to touch. So I grind my fingers into the underside of the chair and hold on for dear life. 

 

He pulls the shirt down his right shoulder slowly, revealing a see-through white tank top. He switches sides and pulls it down his left shoulder, pops his ass back and grinds it across my crotch. I find myself more torn between what I should watch. Him taking his shirt off and revealing more flawless tanned skin down the expanse of his back, or the way his ass just barely grazes the end of my cock on each thrust inward. 

 

I go for the ladder, and watch as he pulls the shirt off to reveal specks of freckles down the tops of his arms and swings the fabric around his head, pitching it to the end of the stage. He places his hands down on the end of my knees, dragging them slowly upward toward my cock. I freeze, feeling my nails biting into the cushion of the chair I'm in. He stops 2 inches short and reaches behind him to grab my hands. I'm terrified, flexing the feeling back into my fingers. 

 

He puts our hands on the top of his chest, lacing our fingers together and dragging them down his abdomen. I feel all 6 of his pecs and his slim waistline before he dips them into his pants, hooking out fingers so they grab the edge of his tank, pulling it up to reveal his stomach to the audience. He pulls it up and down a few times quickly in relevance to the beat before slipping it up completely over his nipples, and letting my hand run up his bare chest. 

 

I’m so hard. I am undeniably, unbelievably, impossibly hard. I wasn’t this hard the first time I had sex. Jesus Fucking Christ. 

 

He suddenly stands, turning to me pointedly and I’m eye to eye with his cock, which is a noticeable and throbbing bulge which is begging for me to reach out and touch it. He shakes his booty for a moment before climbing onto my lap, straddling me. His face is focused on me as his hips gyrate, the green shade of his eyes glimmering in the mood-light backstage. 

 

“You okay, Sammy?” 

 

_Sammy._ My brain repeated. If there is a god, please never let Dean call me anything but that. 

 

I nod my head and regain focus with his eyes, even though his body is inches from mine and I’m tempted to watch it do these dirty, naughty things to me. He slips his fingers under his shirt and playfully slides it up his chest and over his head, bending back on my lap to pitch it in the general direction of his other shirt. He comes back up and is back in my face, his nose inches from mine. He slides his hands in my hair uses his leverage to slide his hardening cock against mine in a melodious pace. 

 

“You can touch, okay? It’s fun for them to see that. Try to keep it above the belt, okay?” 

 

I nod again and feel my mouth go dry, realizing that I have permission to touch every inch of tanned, freckled skin before me. 

 

Did I mention I loved this man? 

 

I reach my hands out and set them on his hips gingerly as he works at the button-fly of his jeans with one hand. He reaches his hand inside and fiddles for a moment before pulling something up, but not out. 

 

He picks himself up off my lap and slowly turns, humping his hips into my leg as he goes. He spreads my legs wide and backs up into them as he turns with his hand down his pants. He pulls something out, which I don’t discover are his boxers until he lifts them high enough for me to see as he flicks the elastic with his fingers, sending them flying through the air. 

 

He bends over and all I see are both firm globes of his ass hugged by the denim as he slowly gets back up, singing the chorus of the song under his breath. He drops to the floor in front of me and does a few push-ups, embellishing his hips and wavering, humping the floor in the process.  I watch the way his muscles smooth and tense he lifts himself from the floor and stands facing me, starting to thumb the hem of his jeans. He pulls them down with a smile and a wink with little to no professional coordination, but for some odd reason I don’t think anyone cared. He lifted his puddled ankle to me, motioning and I bent over to hold on to his jeans as he pulled his leg out. When I lifted my head to sit back, I found myself face to face with his black g-string and I resisted the urge to drool. 

 

I felt myself throb in my pants, growing down the length of my leg and becoming very uncomfortable very quickly. 

 

He turned toward the audience and I heard the crowd cheer for the first time, a mixed amount of all genders present. His ass was chiseled as he walked toward the end of the stage, parading toward the arc to show himself off. 

 

He gripped the pole with both hands and tipped his hips out, thrusting in and out in time with the beat. He raised one hand and slapped the air in front of him, and I suddenly had a flash of Dean’s hand coming down on my ass while he pinned me against that pole and drilled me til I wept. I felt my cock give a defiant twitch as I pushed the thought back and kept it for elaboration at a later time. 

 

Dean made his round and his focus clicked back to me, who was watching his every move. 

 

Dean was graceful as he turned his back towards me and used the end of my knees to support himself as he bent forward, giving me a full view of almost every inch of his skin. He lifted himself off of my legs and bent over in front of me, pulling the G-string off the farther he went down. I now had a full view of his ass, and I instantly regret not reaching my hands out to touch more. 

 

Dean looked to the crowd and as the song approached its end, Dean stood up. The crowd went wild and I peeked between his legs to find a white tube sock dangling on the end of his rock hard and girthy cock, enveloping his balls with it. He thrust forward, sending the sock flying into the air but remained in place, snuggled onto his member. He took my hands on to his heaving chest again and ran them down the same path as before, only leading much farther down. Before our entwined hands reached inches from his cock, he pushed our hands away. He stood up and turned around, sitting on my lap and smirking wildly. I couldn’t help but smile back, the blush running so fast into my cheeks I felt like my face was on fire. 

 

“You’re kinda adorable, you know.” 

 

“Me?” 

 

“No, the other guy I’m grinding against.” 

 

“Oh.” Think, think, _think,_ brain. “Amazing…” D’oh! Words, asshole! “...asshole.” 

 

Dean’s head perked up as I went into full panic mode, shaking my head back and forth as I realized what idiocy spilled from my lips. He was looking at me quizzically as a smirk lifted one side of his cheeks. 

 

“I’m gonna regret telling you this,” Dean lifted himself and turned, tucking the back of his head between my neck and shoulder, using his new leverage to slide his soft, bare, warm cheeks down my crotch. “But yeah, still adorable.” 

 

My face heated as he stood, grasping the front of the sock with one hand and began to slip it off, replacing the sock with his hand as the song ended and the lights became pitch black. Dean turned in the darkness and laid a wet kiss on my cheek. 

 

“Thanks for playin’ along, Sammy.” 

 

“Anytime.” I said cooley, berating myself for my brain function working now that it was too late. I mentally rolled my eyes and made my first attempt to stand up as I watched Dean slip the g-string back on and begin to gather his clothes at the edge of the stage, collecting money from the audience in front of him. I felt a sudden burst of courage as I strolled up to him and bent down to his ear. I watched the bouncer take a step  forward away from the door in case I had a problem. 

 

“What do I have to do to make that happen again?” 

 

“When does your shift end?” He gathered a $20 from Alice, an older foxy woman with red lipstick and bags of money. She was here four times this week already. I checked my watch. It was 9:00. 

 

“In an hour.” I spoke over the patrons and glanced over to Glenn who’s large frame is in attack mode, in case Dean gives him the go-ahead to tackle me off-stage. 

 

“Mine too. I take over for Hector until 11. Stick around, keep me company and buy me a burger at the deli down the street and we’ll see if you can’t get your own free private show.” Dean winked and licked his lip. I think it was unconsciously, but I suddenly wanted nothing more than to lean down and bite the part that stuck out. 

 

My mind was swimming with Dean’s proposition and very curious to get to know what the perfect man was actually like, so I said the only thing my mind was repeatedly thinking. 

 

“ _God,_ yes.” 

 

\----- 

 

“I don’t do this-” Dean motioned to all of the stage, dropping his rag on the bar. “You know, thing. I dance, I get my money and I leave. I never offer to take my victim out afterwards. Just so happens to have found one hot enough for me.” 

 

We’d been talking for nearly half an hour between him pouring drinks for regulars and counting money at the register. Now that Dean had his clothes on, he was a little less intimidating to talk to and I saw the dancer’s mask slip away to reveal the witty, flirty, sarcastic side of the real Dean. Which, turns out, was his real name. He didn’t need a stage name because, “My dad raised me to be careful and how to defend myself. So if anyone comes lookin’ for me in a dark alley, if I don’t whoop their ass, Dad would roll over in his grave.” 

 

“What about you, Sammy? Date strippers much?” 

 

I nearly choked on my water, spitting it back into my drink as fast as possible. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You heard me, punk.” 

 

“N-No, Dean. I don’t date strippers.” I rolled my eyes as I saw the deflated look rise on his face. “N-Not that I wouldn’t! Cause I would, but…” I laid my hand across his on the edge of the bar and he stared at it incredulously. “Let’s just say I haven’t had the time to get to know anyone.” 

 

Wow, that didn’t make you sound like a pathetic, dateless loser who hadn’t been laid in 4 years. I internally sigh and await his response before I screw matters up worse. 

 

“Don’t worry.” He slipped his hand out from under mine and gave the back of my hand two light taps. “It’s cute.” 

 

\----- 

The choices at the Deli were literally piss-poor, but as I watched Dean take his first bite into the burger, the 6-block trek into the pouring rain ended up being worth it. His reaction was nothing less that orgasmic and I felt my cock twitch in my jeans. 

 

“So what’s your deal?” Dean spoke through his chewing, eyes lowered onto the sandwich. His face was well lit against the glass of the building and I never thought he looked more beautiful. 

 

“My deal?” 

 

“Yeah. I mean, you look young. Too young to be working in the skin industry.” 

 

I saw flashes of my father screaming in my face and spittle flying at me as I backed myself into a corner. My father’s voice faded as I looked down to my hands folded into my lap. 

 

“My old man can’t work. Can’t be sober long enough to keep one, anyway. I gotta go to college and this is 3-blocks from my house. Seemed convenient.” 

 

Dean finished with his burger and discarded the folded foil on the table, dusting his hands off. 

 

“There’s a Burger Clown not two streets down.” 

 

“My, what an appetite for burgers you have.” 

 

“No, Sammy.” He shook his head to shake off the chuckle, his lips pulled back in a smile. “You could work there. Beats peeling come off the walls.” 

 

“Burger Clown doesn’t pay half as well as Adonis does.” 

 

“True. Otherwise I’d be working there myself.” Dean winked again and looked out the window into the rain. He leaned back and threw his arm over the back of the booth with a content sigh, turning his attention to me. His gaze was intense as if he was trying to get a good read on what I was thinking. 

 

“Just making sure you didn’t have some stripper kink. College for what?” 

 

“Law.” I found myself clearing my throat, readying myself to justify my decision like dad always made me do. “I wanna be a lawyer.” 

 

“Wow. Puts a whole new spin on stripping your way through college.” He reached his hand over the table and laced our fingers together as I had done not an hour before. Suddenly, I felt this wave of acceptance wash through me and I did my best to smile as much as I could without looking like a lunatic. 

 

“I’m not the one who stripped tonight, Dean.” 

 

“Not yet.” 

 

\---- 

 

SAMUEL WINCHESTER, the bold font read. 

 

“Dear Mr. Winchester,” I read aloud as I clutched the letter in my hand and felt Dean’s chest pressed against my back. “I am delighted to inform you that the Committee of Admissions has admitted you into the Class of 2006…!” I instantly thrust the letter into the air and turned in Dean’s tight embrace, planting a firm kiss to his lips. 

 

“We got in, babe!” Dean’s smile was broad, his toothy grin giving way to my fervent kisses. We held each other as I breathed Dean in, on the verge of tears. He pushed me away and pulled my face back in, kissing me harshly on the cheek. “We gotta celebrate!” 

 

He moved toward the  kitchen and I found myself flopped down on the plush couch, reading the rest of the letter. I heard a cracking noise and two glasses rubbing together as Dean approached the couch, rounding the table to sit beside me. He set the glasses down and began to pour us two glasses of whiskey, picking them both up and handing one to me. 

 

“To Massachusetts.” Dean offered his glass into the air as I clinked mine against the side and we raised our glasses together before knocking them down. Dean made a sour face and I imagine I did the same, but the warm liquid sloshing itself down into my belly was enough of a distraction for me not to notice. 

 

He poured two more and offered mine back to me. 

 

“To leaving your abusive father and never coming back to this shithole town!” 

 

“Here, here!” I whooped as we repeated the same motions and slammed our drinks down together, connecting our eyes. 

 

Dean picked back up the whiskey bottle and began to pour two more. I eyed him surprisingly as he handed me my glass. 

 

“One more, I promise.” Dean smirked, stifling his laughter, causing me to let out a sympathetic chortle. “To-To cute shelves and amazing assholes!” 

 

I pushed his arm with my fingertips as we laughed, roaring uncontrollable giggles echoing off the walls. We attempted not to spill our drinks as we collected ourselves and I pressed my finger to his lips when he tried to take his shot. I became serious as something inside me settled, and I watched this gorgeous man in front of me grin and look at me quizzically. 

 

“To another year of blissful happiness with the man I love.” It was poetic, but it was also true. Within the last year, we’d moved in together, worked together and made the big decision to move to Massachusetts together, pending my approval at Harvard. 

 

Dean dropped his glass on the table and snatched mine from me. He set it on the table with a careless finesse as he leaned over to capture my lips with his own. The kiss became heated as he pinned me to the couch, sliding his crotch over mine. 

 

“Should I put on “The Stroke” one last time in this apartment?” 

 

“Sure, Sammy.” Dean let his tongue dart out and lick his bottom lip. “I’ll dance for you.”


End file.
